


destiny still arrives (together)

by Iron_George



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Infinity War spoilers, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sad, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Superfamily, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 04:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_George/pseuds/Iron_George
Summary: ""aquacanis said:_IW SPOILERS_ Tony returning to earth and confronting steve about peter's fate""It happens like this: there is a boy in his arms, shaking apart at the seams, begging to stay━I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go━and it's all he can do to cling back just as hard.





	destiny still arrives (together)

**Author's Note:**

> So, obviously, don't read this if you haven't seen Infinity War.  
> Just writing the summary hurt me.  
> Unbeta'd, as with all my work. Any typos or grammatical errors are my own.  
> Comments and kudos make me a happy man!  
> Tumblr: invincibleirondad
> 
> Songs I listened to whilst writing this that you can also listen to whilst reading this if you want to hurt some more:  
> \- Skinny Love ━ Birdy  
> \- To Build A Home ━ The Cinematic Orchestra  
> \- Lighthouse ━ Patrick Watson  
> \- Hide and Seek ━ Imogen Heap  
> \- Everything ━ Lifehouse  
> \- For Blue Skies ━ Strays Don't Sleep  
> \- My Love ━ Sia (piano instrumental)

It happens like this: there is a boy in his arms, shaking apart at the seams, begging to stay━ _I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go_ ━and it's all he can do to cling back just as hard. Maybe. Maybe, he thinks, if he holds on tight enough, he can keep him together. Maybe if he doesn't let go, this boy, _his_ boy, his son, his  _child_ won't slip through his fingers.

 

He does.

 

He does and it hurts and it's everything that Tony  _never_ wanted for him, everything that he tried  _so hard_ to protect Peter from. But he failed. He failed, he failed, _he failed, hefailedhefailed-_

And now there is this. The taste of war on his lips. The dust of destruction a cloying film at the back of his throat. The ashes ghosting over his palms, like silk when caressed; but their grit bites into his fingertips when he clenches them roughly against his palm. Clinging, still clinging. Desperate. Holds them to his face and sobs and breathes them in and chokes them out. There is no ache in his chest; his chest _is_ the ache. Not a single atom within him is spared from this agony.

Behind him, Nebula watches on impassive.

"We have to go," she tells him. Her voice sounds like a steel wall. The vibrations of it would rattle him if he weren't catatonic. If he hadn't seen her during their tussle with Thanos, demanding the whereabouts of her sister, he might have accused her of heartlessness. As it is, he simply stays put. Hands still cupped around his mouth. Tears a silent stream. Cascading agony.

Where is there to go, anyway? Earth may not even exist anymore, for all he knows. Asgard doesn't. Asgard, the eternal realm, population: gods and golden glory. Gone. All of it: gone.

Oh, God. Steve. If Steve...  _if he didn't..._   _if he did..._

How could he tell him?

Before he can even begin to try mulling over the possible scenarios, a hand is snagging him by the arm and dragging him toward a somehow-still-functional ship. His side protests with a violent gurgle of blood and bright, bright pain blossoming all along his left side, blinding him. The orange sky blinks into white. Empty. Empty. Emptiness everywhere. No Peter.

It's the last thing he remembers before he loses all sense of time. Consciousness. Reality.

* * *

He thinks he hears Steve's voice. There's a lot of noise. His body is jostled, and he might spit up some more blood. Nebula passes him over like a business transaction.

_The wizard saw one possible future where we win. Apparently his survival is necessary; his life was spared in exchange for an infinity stone. He's your responsibility now._

The arms around him are thick and firm, solid, strong. He'd know these arms anywhere. Their warmth, the curve of them accommodating his body. He'd know these arms in death, at the end of the world. He does. It is the end of the world, and he knows these arms.

He blacks out before he hears Steve's reply, a senseless rumble of thunder against a ringing ear.

* * *

When he wakes up, it's to the steady whir and thrum of machinery. It's familiar. Yet not at all. There's no clumsy clattering, no mangled sofa, the thick scent of grease and motor oil absent. For a moment, he's disorientated enough to forget himself. To forget the universe━what's left of it. And then he remembers and it slams into him all over again. Like a train running full speed ahead straight into his chest.

Except the hurt is worse. He'd know. He's used his body to stop a train before now.

He'd take that a ~~billion~~ trillion times over this.

Maybe he makes a noise, because the next thing he knows is light and Steve's face and a flutter of frantic voices  _and when did he even open his eyes, what's happening, what happened to the throb in his side, why isn't he asphyxiating on his own blood, why do his hands feel clean━oh, God, his hands, his hands, they're clean━Peter! PeterPeterPeter━_

"Breathe, Tony, breathe, you're safe, you're in Wakanda and you're safe," a voice to his left tells him. Safe? Nothing is safe! Half the universe is dust and Thanos is still alive and━ "Breathe with me, come on, that's it, just like we used to." There's a hand guiding his to rest over a mostly steady heartbeat. "That's it. Breathe with me, ba- Tony. Easy. See? Easy. You've got it."

Of all the ways he imagined he might see Steve again, having the other talk him down from a panic attack wasn't even a hint of a consideration.

He rouses━fully, properly━into the present moment with his fingers twisted into cotton and Steve's palm covering the new RT in his chest. He almost flinches. Almost. But that was two years ago, and it feels like a lifetime ago, inconsequential in the face of all of this, and after having gone toe to toe with Thanos he honestly can't think of anything left in the universe that could terrify him.

Beside him, Steve takes a shaky breath.

"Your chest," he whispers, and now Tony notices the almost imperceptible tremor in his fingers.

"Housing device," he responds. "Really, it's fine. Nothing. It's nothing."

Nothing.

He looks at his hand. The left one. All that's left of Peter, washed away save for the dust under his fingernails. His face crumples in the beginnings of a sob, and he doesn't know how to explain the suffering that's too heavy for him to bear. All he manages is a single, "Peter," the name cutting out of his mouth with jagged edges, and it feels like spitting blood but drier, crusted with a throttling grief that wraps its talons around his throat and  _squeezes_. He realises that this━  _this_ is the terror that outweighs Thanos. A life without Peter. A life without his son.

It's no life at all. Certainly not one he wants to live.

The gaping wound inside his chest that Peter's presence had gently nursed into a near-painless scar has been torn open again. Just a mess of weeping muscles and broken promises he used to call a heart.

"Tony..." Steve's voice is a tentative, fragile disturbance in air, filling an empty space between the wretched, gasping cries.

"He- he's gone, Steve! I- I told him- I told him to g-go home! He wouldn't! But now, n-now I think, would it have made any difference? I just- just had to hold him. He was- he didn't wanna go, Steve, he- he didn't wanna go. It's all my fault, Steve, it's all my f-"

"Hey, hey, no, stop it," Steve interrupts, but his chest vibrates with grief; his voice is a guttural sound. "It's- it would've happened anyway, you couldn't have stopped it, Tony. You- he. You got to hold him, yeah? He was with you. When he- when he went. That's- that's something. Isn't it? You held him. That's enough."

"Is it?!" A broken demand; a shattered plea.

"Yes. It has to be. It is."

His estranged, war-torn lover soothes him with gentle fingers stroking through his hair. There's a tangle of half-formed apologies and pleas for absolution weaved in the spaces between his ribs, but none escape. How selfish an idea, to beg for forgiveness when he doesn't deserve to be forgiven.

"Stop thinking, Tony," and then there are lips caressing his bruised eyelids. "We'll fix this."

 _How? How exactly can this be fixed?_ he wants to yell, but he doesn't. Steve's lips are chapped but still warm and soft, and his hands are strong enough to ground him. Only a day ago he was still too gutted, too stubborn and heartbroken to even pick up that damn flip phone and make that call━too selfish to admit to the chaos of emotions warring in his breast and too wretched to admit that this man still means the world to him. Now it feels like the easiest thing in the world to lean into Steve's touch and it  _shouldn't_ be this easy  _but it is_ and he's certain he deserves none of this. No comfort, no sweet-tempered words, no kindness, no tender touches. He tries not to choke on the feelings clogging his airways. Fails miserably. Always, always failing.  _I don't deserve anything I have._

But Peter is gone. And Steve is here. The universe is split in two, between mourning mortals realising they are not the centre of the cosmos and the echoes of existence left behind by lost loved ones.

"I need you," he says, finally. Three words he should've said two years ago. Not  _"we need you, Cap,"_ but the truth:  _I need you._  

"You have me. We'll fix this."

"Together?"

"Together."


End file.
